We're Alright, But we need pills to sleep at night
by elenwyn
Summary: There's a murder at her college, and Claire is certain the sinister Carnival is involved. Peter goes with her to investigate, but they might just find they're looking for something completely different. One-shot. Paire. Heavy spoilers for Vol 5!


**A.N: **This was written for the 'Blood' theme over at pairechallenge. I've spent a few days on this trying to get it the way I wanted it.

**Warnings/Spoilers: **INCEST. **SPOILERS LIKE!WHOAH FOR VOL 5 'REDEMPTION'. I'm not joking. If it's been mentioned, it's probably in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes :( Or the title, which comes from 'Pills' by The Perishers. Or the quote at the start of the fic, which is taken from Shakespeare's 'As You Like It'.

Enjoy! Reviews would be lovely, btw ;)

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_All the world's a stage,_

_And all the men and women merely players:_

_They have their exits and their entrances._

* * *

The Carnival got there a week before the girl was murdered; Claire remembered Gretchen pointing out the flyers on the notice boards around campus. It was probably just a coincidence, but she couldn't stop thinking that something about the Carnival wasn't _right_.

But perhaps that was because, ever since Sylar died, the normalcy in her life had started to bore her to tears. It's why she chose Washington instead of a college in California, cut her hair shorter in an attempt to change her life. Once she'd craved to be the same as everyone else, go to college, be popular; now she was looking everywhere for a way to be different.

She felt restless, uneasy. Angela told her once she settled into college she'd feel better, her dad said the same, but something told her not to trust them completely. It was hard to shake off the feeling of being lied to when it had happened so many times. Nathan, despite all his promises, had returned to being even more apart from her life than before, even though he worked in the city not ten minutes from where she was staying; closer than ever but still further apart.

Peter was the one that bugged her the most, he'd retreated, physically and mentally, gone more into himself than before. She had seen the night of the bonfire the effects the weight of the world was having on him, the regret she felt at not being able to save the man that once was her hero from his thoughts and troubles. He worked with her father now, building the new 'Company', but she hardly every heard from him. She hardly ever heard from anyone.

From her dorm window, she'd watched the Carnival set up, intrigued and almost pulled in by its presence. But it wasn't until the murder she decided to go and see it for herself.

She confided in Gretchen about her plans; her dorm mate had revealed her own, albeit less extraordinary, secret to her a few days before: by kissing her. Confused and a little flattered, Claire had gently turned her down, but had decided to reveal her own secret to her. Not surprisingly, given her fascination with blood, Gretchen was enthralled at watching her skin knit back together, and requested Claire show off her ability whenever they were alone in the dorm. Despite the weirdness of it all, they'd developed quite a bond, and Claire was glad to have one person she could talk to freely.

"So," Gretchen began after Claire had finished outlining her plan, "You're going to go down to the Carnival and what? Accuse them of murder and show them you can heal to scare them off? You don't have any proof."

"I…don't know," the blonde answered with regret. Impulsiveness was a trait she often found herself giving into, much to her family's chagrin, "I just_ know _there's something not right with them, and I think it's all connected, you know?"

Her friend nodded, hair falling into her face, "I could…come with you if you want. I heard there was a knife-thrower and stuff there; it would be so cool if something went wrong and there was an accident or something." She started off shyly, building up enthusiasm as she went, "And it could turn into a CSI kinda thing. That'd be awesome."

Claire shook her head, smiling at her friend's kookiness, "I think I've had enough CSI scenarios to last me a life-time." The image of her waking up on an autopsy table flashed into her head; she wouldn't tell Gretchen about that, she'd be too intrigued and there were things about that night she longed to forget.

"I need to do this by myself," She continued, apologetic, "Sorry, Gretch."

The girl shrugged her shoulders, "It's ok. I just don't want you getting hurt…not that you can get hurt, but…you know what I mean. When're you gonna go?"

"Tonight." Claire's decisiveness surprised even herself, "It won't be any good to go in the day, 'cause it'll look more suspicious if I start poking around. If I go during the night, when there's loads of people, I'll have a better chance."

"Of what?"

"Finding something," she responded, mouth set in a determined line.

There had to be something at that Carnival, there had to. If there wasn't, she would have to admit that it was just her longing for something different to happen to her, and she was too stubborn to accept that.

---

She'd jumped out of her dorm window a few hours later, when it was completely dark. Gretchen saw her off, unable to keep away from another display of Claire's talents. Popping her arm back into place and watching the gravel push itself back out of her skin; she took off in the direction of the Carnival, lit up like a beacon inviting her in.

'_Welcome to the Sullivan Brother's Carnival,' _the sign proclaimed, inviting her in. The place was buzzing, people dotted all over the place, chatting, eating, gawping at the many stands on display. There were fun-fair rides, a big-top, even a fortune-teller's stall. Behind them, away from the bright lights and sounds, lay the traveller's caravans. Claire shuddered despite it being a warm night; everything about the place screamed of something disturbing. It felt old, ancient even, like there was a hidden presence presiding over it all. The décor, the carnies; Claire could imagine this place thousands of years ago, the inhabitants performing human sacrifices and bloody offerings to ill spirits.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Claire whirled round, startled, coming face to face with a middle-aged man; small, blue-tinted glasses perched on his nose, a sinister smile and a gravelly voice. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a blonde woman retreat into a tent marked _'Tattoo Girl'_.

"I, er, I don't think so." She stumbled over her words, wondering why on Earth this guy had singled her out from so many others, "I was just…"

"Enjoying the carnival, I hope," The man grinned toothily. Claire suppressed a shudder; there was something about this man that reminded her of Sylar, a face she wanted to forget.

"Samuel," He continued, holding out a hand which Claire shook reluctantly, "I…oversee things around here. And your name?"

She grudgingly gave hers in reply, causing Samuel to mutter, "Yes, of course."

Claire gave a fake smile, trying to back away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him, so close that she could smell the cologne surrounding him and the strong scent of cigarettes.

"Isn't it funny," He looked at her from over his glasses, "How we're all looking for something…and in the end, we all end up in the same place to find it."

The girl tried to pull her arm away from his grasp, but he clung on, "I have no idea what you're talking about." She insisted, "Let me go, now."

Instead, Samuel pulled her even closer, so their faces were inches apart, "I know who you are, Miss Bennet. We are kin, you and I; the same."

"Now I _really_ have no idea what you're on about," Claire repeated, managing to wriggle out of his grip and glaring at him.

"Suit yourself," He replied, hands up in the air in faux defencelessness. She pushed past him and back towards the entrance, too perturbed to continue her investigating.

"We all find our way home eventually!" Samuel called after her as she left, "You can't escape it; it's in your blood."

---

When she told Peter what had happened, he was unusually interested, even offering to go back with her to investigate another time when he was in town.

He met with her near the entrance, and Claire felt the familiar sense of dread that came upon her when she looked at the Carnival. Peter enclosed her hand in his, and the feeling dissipated. She glanced up into his eyes and saw that the weariness had gone away. He was her hero again, good as new.

Samuel wasn't at Tattoo Girl's tent when they arrived, and Claire relaxed a little, allowing herself a joke or two with Peter. Five minutes later, all thoughts of finding out about the murder and the sinister meaning of the Carnival had vanished; Peter bought her cotton candy and paid for her to go on the rides, the childlike part of him that still saw the wonder in the world emerging, and Claire felt more at ease than ever.

She realised just how little she knew about him, even though it had been almost two years since they first met. For once, with no foreseeable threat to their lives, they could finally catch up and just talk.

Peter had definitely changed since she'd seen him a few weeks ago, and for the better. Memories of Homecoming kept coming back to her, when she'd bumped into him, the wild thumping of heart trying to steady itself as her eyes locked onto his. That moment, that one moment in time, was destiny. Maybe it had been blood recognising blood, but she'd never thought it was, and she didn't now. There was a higher connection at work, one that passed the bond of relation, but they'd never talked about it. In a way they didn't need to.

His hand linked once again with hers as they strolled passed the Ferris wheel, happily blending in with other couples enjoying the evening. Claire's heart gave a funny jolt as she registered her idle thoughts, and hoped Peter couldn't hear them. He only tightened the grip on her hand, smiling lazily across to her.

"Some murder investigation," he quipped, glancing at her.

Her mind jerked back into reality, almost panicking, but Peter's easy gaze stopped her.

"It's ok," He continued, "To be honest, it's good to spend time with you. Everything's been non-stop since, well…"

"Since the beginning," Claire answered, sighing heavily in agreement.

They reached a bench a little away from the hustle and bustle, a good a spot as any to try and see what was going on as well as spending time with Peter.

She kicked her sneakers against the dusty ground, watching as dust flew up into the air and drifted back down again. Peter sat down next to her, watching the rides, the people, her. His eyes rested on her form.

"I've got a new girlfriend." He finally announced, like it had taken him ages to work up the courage.

Claire's blood boiled but she tried not to show it, wanted to scream and cry and smile all at the same time. She chose smiling in the end, turning towards him with a well practiced grin upon her face.

"That's nice. What's her name?"

"Claire," he admonished, looking down.

"What?" She questioned, "What else do you expect me to say? What do you _want_ me to say?"

It came out more as a dare than a question; the air crackled with something Claire didn't really want to put her finger on. This was the moment Peter either acknowledged everything or he didn't. She held her breath.

He looked back at her, torn, almost pleading. "Claire," he said again.

She waited. Peter sighed heavily, "Her name is Emma."

Claire's shoulders slumped only slightly, "Ok."

"She's deaf."

"Ok."

"_Claire._"

"_What?_"

The empath growled in frustration, leaving the bench and stalking off in the direction of the caravans the Carnies lived in. Claire sighed, muttering silent curses to the heavens before joining him.

"I don't know what you want me to say," She half yelled as she reached him, "There's nothing I _can_ say, Peter." _It's not like we could ever be that way_. She finished in her head, knowing that he would hear her.

She watched his fists clench, could almost hear the blood pumping through his veins, the same that was running through her to make her heart beat at a thousand miles a minute. Something was going to happen, Claire was sure of it.

"I want you to just –" he whirled round, stepping closer to her and gripping her wrists. She was reminded of Sylar, Samuel, her father, all at once. Most of all, she remembered the night they met; crimson painting her face and clothes, him telling her to run, go, find people.

"I want you to tell me you feel something," He finished, breathless, face inches from hers.

And Claire did the only thing she could think of to do; she took one, small step forward and kissed him.

Peter mumbled her name as their lips pressed again and again to each other's, savouring the feeling of it. Claire knew that, as wonderful as it was, it wouldn't happen again. She let herself be wrapped up in his embrace for just one moment, damning themselves to hell but feeling like heaven all at once.

From a caravan, Samuel and a blonde woman watched from the window. The man smiled; his family were finding their way at last.


End file.
